But if he speaks—I fear what he may tell. . ’ Gerald moved to the long sofa, dusted it with elaborate care with one of its cushions, and with a gesture invited her to sit down. ‘Lord,’ he uttered, glancing about with a disparaging eye. “Look round the table,” she said. He could not pull her soul apart now to satisfy that queer absorbing, delving thing which was his literary curiosity; he had put her outside that circle. He made the universe on those lines. “You have even her name. Cheveney was another Paris friend, was he?” she asked. Jack, whose back was towards it, did not see it; but he heard, from the pitying exclamations of the crowd, that it was in view. ” He began. Most of it had been incomprehensible to her, or comprehensible in a way that checked further curiosity, but the figure of Vivien, hard, capable, successful, and bullying, and ordering about a veritable Teddy in the person of Frank Gardner, appealed to her.
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